Something New
by Choice Creations
Summary: Brittany and Santana discover something new about each other. Santana tries to hide it and Brittany, well, she doesn't have a clue until...


Brittany and Santana discover something new about each other. Santana tries to hide it and Brittany, well, she doesn't have a clue until...

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><p>Santana stands in a slight squat position, with her knees bent and splayed apart; her back is perfectly straight and her feet are planted firmly on her bedroom floor. From behind, Brittany holds onto Santana's shoulders then steps up, placing the arch of her foot on Santana's thigh and does the same with her other foot on Santana's other thigh. They gingerly reach out for each other's hands, and, as Brittany slowly lifts herself up behind Santana, they raise their arms into formation; Santana's arms are stretched out into an open V over her head and, in order to maintain balance, Brittany tightly grips Santana's hands.<p>

"I got it. I got it," Brittany says.

"Stop wobbling," Santana scolds. "Coach Sylvester will make us do 20 if she sees us wobble."

"Now what?" Brittany asks.

"Let go of my hands, real slow and try to stay really still."

"I did that once, stayed really, really still," Brittany explains. "It wasn't so bad until the other mannequins stopped talking to me. Then it got really uncomfortable."

Santana and Brittany cautiously release hands; Santana lowers her arms, placing her hands confidently on her hips while Brittany, all the while maintaining her footing on Santana's thighs, raises her arms up into a triumphant V over her head. They both wear competition-winning smiles as they admire their perfect formation in the full length mirror on Santana's wall.

"We make a really hot totem pole," Brittany contemplates aloud.

Without warning, Santana straightens her legs making Brittany sway and lose her balance. Fortunately, Santana's bed breaks her fall as Brittany lands on the edge of it but rolls off. Both girls laugh hysterically; Santana holds her belly while Brittany recovers with fits of laughter on the floor, her arm and part of her torso are under Santana's bed.

"What's this?" asks Brittany as she pulls out a roll of printed images from under the sham.

The color drains from Santana's face as it goes from bright, rosy joy to sheet white. "Nothing," she says. "Give it to me."

Brittany casually leafs through the pages, saying, "I love Victoria Secret©. I think Lord Tubbington, my cat, uses my credit card to order from here. But he lies about. I like it because it gives me great ideas about shoes."

"It's a lingerie magazine," Santana corrects.

"Exactly," Brittany confirms as she continues to look at the pictures. "You might need a new one, this one is all wrinkled and…damp." She curiously looks at the pages.

"Alright, give it back," Santana insists.

"That's cool," Brittany says, ignoring Santana. "This girl's name is Brittany too. Look."

Brittany opens the magazine to a badly creased page featuring a tall, tanned, freckled-face blond model with smoldering eyes sporting a floral bikini. Right above her golden locks, the word "Brittany" is hand-written and underlined in black marker. Santana's eyes open so wide they look like they will fall out of her face. Santana frantically reaches to snatch the magazine out of Brittany's hand, but Brittany casually raises it above her head.

"Give it back!"

"I'm not finished looking at it," Brittany calmly says.

Out of sheer frustration, Santana lunges at Brittany pushing her back onto the bed. Brittany struggles to hold onto the magazine while Santana frantically tries to wrestle it away from her. Brittany flips onto her stomach to conceal the magazine while Santana jumps on her back pulling Brittany's arms out from under her. Brittany giggles during the tussle while beads of sweat build on Santana's frowning brow.

"Okay, okay," Brittany pleads. "You're hurting me. Stop pulling and I'll give it to you."

When Brittany manages to squirm from under Santana and turn onto her back, Brittany tucks the magazine behind her and sheepishly grins. Finally pinning Brittany's wrists over her head, Santana looks down at Brittany. They stare at each other in silence; their chests heaving as they try to catch their breaths.

Santana is drawn to the light freckles on Brittany's face randomly scattered on her nose and cheeks. A subtle sensation passes through her; Santana adjusts her self. She feels Brittany do the same beneath her, between her legs. Is it a tickle, a tingle or a tweak? All she knows is that… she's felt it before.

But she had been alone those times, once again woken up in the middle of the night by the dampness that builds after one of those dreams. The ones she can't understand why she keeps on having but quickly and tightly closes her eyes shut again hoping that she could go back into and pick up from where she left off; her fingers, sometimes her lips, drenched in something soft.

Santana adjusts herself again, but this time she is very aware of Brittany's skin touching, smoothing against her own…between her thighs. Brittany squirms beneath her in response. Their eyes meet. Brittany's grin changes into a serious straight line.

"Awkward," Brittany says.

A blush coats Santana's sienna-colored cheeks as she responds, "Ya."

Un-straddling her, Santana extends her hand to Brittany, pulling her up into a seated position. They stare at each other – their faces a breath's distance apart – not knowing what to do. Santana wondering if Brittany feels the same way she's been feeling about her; Brittany wondering when was the last time Santana tweezed her uni-brow because it's growing back.

They stare at each other; not knowing what to say. Then there is nothing to say. Santana's eyes melt close at the touch of another pair of lips on her own. The softness lulls her into a dream of lightheadedness and sparkles; of backward flips and perfect pyramid formations; of red and white pleated cheerleader skirts fluttering against her face as she looks up to catch a glimpse of that elusive magical V. She squeezes her thighs together to quell a growing sensation between her legs. OMG, she moans in her mind. Brittany's lips peel apart from Santana's. Brittany's fingers gently stroke Santana's lips.

"Not awkward," Brittany whispers into Santana's mouth as she resumes kissing her.

They both know about kissing boys; their thick tongues, musty breaths, scratchy, stubbly chins, and the big hands that hold them ever so strongly and firmly at the small of their backs. But this is different. For Santana, she doesn't have to pretend this time. Pretend that the boy is someone else; someone softer, leaner, smoother, sweet smelling, with a small waist, gentle curves and….boobs.

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><p>She had noticed Brittany's for the first time their first year on the Cheerios. Santana didn't mean to notice them, she just did. It was the strangest moment in her teenage years. Santana remembers the all-girl locker room changes after her gymnastics or swim classes, she remembers the girls in the changing room at her balletjazz dance school but she never noticed them before, not like that. Not how they moved, their athletic or lithe bodies, or their nakedness when they came out of the showers. But that day, in the Cheerios locker room at MWHS, after they had cheered the football team's first, and only, win of the season – Coach Sylvester giving each any every one of the girls a hardy slap on their rears after the game – Santana had a revelation.

Santana had helped many a girl out of her leotard but on that day, when Brittany asked her to unzip her cheerleader uniform to prepare for a shower, something happened. As the red and white dress slipped down from Brittany's shoulders and hips revealing her lean thighs, taut stomach, and – "I needs me some'a those," the thought assaulted Santana's senses without warning at the sight of Brittany's cleavage in her Paul Frank monkey bra. Santana had blushed and turned away.

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><p>In this moment, in Santana's room, it is different for Brittany too. These lips don't taste like dip or burgers or her armpits…yet. She doesn't have to guess the toothpaste flavor that lingers on Santana's tongue. Brittany knows the difference between peppermint and spearmint. "It's peppermint, definitely peppermint", she thinks. "And these lady kisses…totally hot. I just wish I could remember her name."<p>

"Santana!" the name comes to Brittany, jarring her out of her reverie of kissing this beautiful girl who's never called her the S-word. It's a deep man voice.

The call of Santana's name is followed by a solid knock on her bedroom door which startles Brittany and Santana apart. Like a spooked cat, Santana bounds from Brittany's side to the opposite end of her bed.

The door swings open to Santana's Dad saying, "Oh, I didn't know Brittany was here. Do you want to stay for dinner? We're having Santana's favorite, paella."

Speechless and flushed with embarrassment, Brittany shoots a look at Santana.

"Have you ever had it before?" Santana's Dad continues, oblivious as to what has just happened in the room. "It has rice, all types of meats, and it's really spicy. It might be different than anything you're used to. Do you like to try new things?"

Wide-eyed, Brittany looks at Santana again, then back at Santana's Dad.

"Yes!" Santana answers for Brittany. "Apparently, she does."


End file.
